What It Means To Love Her
by Whiterose619
Summary: As he stood in a corner and watched her, a thought struck him. A simple thought, it upset the delicate balance of his world and overturned all his beliefs, his knowledge, and his morals. Not that he had many of those. Oneshot. R&R!


What It Means To Love Her

_No one is perfect until you fall in love with them._

_-Anonymous-_

His breath caught as he looked into intelligent brown eyes. His heartbeat quickened as the firelight danced over her face, lent mischief to her bright eyes, and played with her hair. As he stood in a corner and watched her walk gracefully down the hall towards him, a thought struck him. A simple thought, it upset the delicate balance of his world and overturned all his beliefs, his knowledge, and his morals. Not that he had many of those. _Simple beauty. _She was the living, breathing representation of it. She was simple. She wore no make up, no jewelry. Her brown hair wasn't tame. Her skirt was modest, her robes down-to-earth. She was perfect in her simplicity. He had always preferred the fancy, the adorned. And yet he was drawn to her.

It was her aura, he decided. It gave her a personality, unlike the girls he was always surrounded by. Her aura told a story about her. A story he was fascinated by. Though outwardly simple, it told him she was complex. She was strong, brave, and loyal. She was smart, kind, and thoughtful. She knew how to love with a completeness and depth he lacked. She knew how to…live. That was it. She knew how to live! She counted life not in days or weeks, but in moments. She knew what she had and she cherished it. That was what set her apart from the multitude of girls around her. That made her special and he knew it.

He also knew that society considered her far beneath him. Though _he_ considered himself beneath _her_. She was pure and untouchable. Untainted. And he knew that associating with him would taint her. If not in his eyes, then in her own. She was out of reach, like the apple high above in the tree. No matter how far he climbed, she was always out of grasp. Unattainable, his mind labeled her.

As she passed by, he drank in the sight of her. His heart wrenched painfully, but he knew it was useless. He could never reach out and touch her. She would walk by his corner, as she always did, and disappear in the crowd going downstairs to dinner. He would follow slowly, as he always did, contemplating the state of his heart.

Loving her was painful, he acknowledged. It hurt to see her talking and laughing amongst her friends, when he knew she would never talk to _him_ like that, or smile at _him_ in just that way, as if he were the only one that mattered. In fact he knew he was probably the only one who would never matter. _He _was the enemy, the one who despised her simply because she couldn't choose who her parents were. None of that mattered now that he loved her.

_But it does matter_, a snide voice, alarmingly similar to his father's, interrupted his thoughts. _Her blood matters, because it makes her unworthy of your love. _He squashed the intruding voice. He had gotten better at it, because the voice bothered him less and less often now. But it was still there, lurking in the back of his mind, no doubt the result of his father's poisonous teachings. Until he got rid of it completely, he knew he could never even consider seeking her favor.

Until that dubious moment in the future, he would continue as he had, wondering why he loved the girl he was supposed to hate. Maybe he was being rebellious. He was a teenager, after all. That couldn't be it though. His feelings for her were too strong to be the results of a childish rebellion. Unbidden, an image came to his mind. It was an image of her; she was radiant in her simple beauty. Seeing her like that made him cringe and want to run to his dark corner. She was too _good_ for him.

Suddenly, he laughed. His dilemma had finally been resolved. He realized the only way to understand his feelings and find out if she would ever reciprocate them was to suffer them. He would have to live everyday with the pain and pleasure that came from loving her from the shadows. It was an agonizing prospect, but he knew what it meant to love her. Because he did love her, truly. He was prepared to spend his every breath waiting for her, prepared to spend eternity with the torture of uncertainty. But he did know it was right. That was how he was meant to live. Loving her with an intensity she would one day feel, which would one day wipe away all traces of their past and give promise of a new future, together. This is how he was meant to live…loving her. Loving Hermione.


End file.
